


The Notes of Love ( Brett x Eddy ) (R-18)

by gg0v0



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gg0v0/pseuds/gg0v0
Summary: Truly appreciate that my bestie April(小四) translated it to English >///<This work was written in 中文(chinese) in origin, it came from my work "紙捲情緣( Brett x Eddy ) ( R-18)"The au setting in this work is in the late 1930s
Relationships: Brett Yang/Eddy Chen, Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	The Notes of Love ( Brett x Eddy ) (R-18)

**Author's Note:**

> Truly appreciate that my bestie April(小四) translated it to English >///<  
> This work was written in 中文(chinese) in origin, it came from my work "紙捲情緣( Brett x Eddy ) ( R-18)"  
> The au setting in this work is in the late 1930s

Chapter ONE

The street cleaner swept through the stairs, leaving the once piling leaves whirling in the air. They waltzed their way through the bustling pedestrians.

“Ahh…is it gonna snow again…?” the young man sitting in front of the old wooden desk whispered. He reached out his arm to shut the window. A cold gust of wind crept in, making him sneeze. The loft he rented is at the third floor. Peering out of the window, the foliage has changed its color from carmine to dun. The withered leaves hung themselves dangerously on the twigs. Slightly drifting, they brushed a gloomy shade on the bleak autumn sky. 

“Eddy! I’ve put your mail on the entrance table!” yelled the landlady. She’s on the right side of fifty. Without any permanent job, Eddy wouldn’t have a chance renting this place. She made an exception for him only because he’s about the same age as her son who worked far away from home. The echo of her voice wafted upstairs. Eddy replied. He gathered all the scripts scattering on the desk together, preparing to hand in the music that took him all night long to finish.

Eddy is a musician. To be precise, he’s expert in composition. The perfect pitch that he’s endowed with allows him to compose piece after piece without any instrument in hand. Sneaking in the empty church and using the piano to try his music out are his weekly routine.

Eddy doesn’t want to give up this dream. The recession and the crumbling society make it a privilege even to live hand-to-mouth. The upper class squandered their nights away at different theaters and charity auctions. Clinking their crystal glasses, they’re shooting for being in the same news photo with the first lady or the prestigious. Wielding their power of connection under the table, they’re able to derive benefit from the increasingly tense situation.

The world was on the verge of war. In the evening radio broadcast, reports about the Nazi were increasingly frequent. Some grasping power was nibbling away the continent. The proletarians were insignificant. The payment Eddy earned by selling music to restaurants and late night clubs could barely make a living. He had to go part-time at a typist office or news agency to cover his rent.

Life was an ongoing struggle. The Wall Street crash shattered people's dream of making a fortune, pushing them into an abyss. In the battle of life, all Eddy could do is to find a precious moment fully devoting himself into music.

“Ahh…just in time—,” panted Eddy. He held a bundle of yellowed paper in his arms. He always asked the typist office for waste paper to script his music. He couldn't afford the new ones.

The violinist living across the street was still there. He moved in a month ago. The notes of music gently patted on Eddy's window and lingered into his mind. Ever since Eddy opened the window out of curiosity, he couldn't help but fall for the mellifluous melody.  
  
The violinist didn’t show up regularly. But Eddy knew that no matter what repertoires he played at that day, he would certainly play the Tchaikovsky violin concerto, at least for once. 

And now he’s playing through the end of the last movement. If it’s few minutes later, Eddy will miss the chance to talk to him. 

“Excuse me, can you…play this piece for me…I…I’ll pay…,” Eddy muttered, handing him the music scripts. He squeezed the only cash left in his pocket, that’s half of his living expenses for the next month.

Eddy knew by heart that in the time of difficulty, people struggled to make a living. They wouldn't have any extra devoting to art. Families with kids couldn't even get a loaf for months.

The harsh reality might not ease up on the violinist as well. Out of the passion and respect toward music, Eddy didn’t want to take advantage of him. He just wanted to hear him playing the music he wrote. 

“…You don’t have to,” said the violinist, a languid voice resonated into his ears. His gaze swiftly swept over the music. Eddy seemed…seemed to see a hint of curiosity in his eyes. 

“Gosh…,” Eddy stammered in astonishment. The music he had just played is beyond words. He had imagined those rhythms in his mind over and over again. He never thought they could come to life like this… not even in his wildest dream.

“You’ve put great effort in it,” the violinist said. The music slowly faded away. He lifted up his gaze and looked at Eddy, who was completely stunned.

“…you…it…it came alive…,” Eddy stuttered, still staring at the music in his hands. 

The violinist said nothing. But he laughed. 

“Umm…I…I’m Eddy…umm…,” Eddy said, trembling. If he’s not packing up his violin case, Eddy would be dorky enough to dash forward and shake his hands.

“Brett,” he answered. Carrying his violin in one hand and returning the music in a leisure manner. He waved his hands and turned his way into an alley.

The music Eddy held in his hands was brought to life.

The violinist had become Eddy’s newest interest. 

Truth be told, Eddy was fascinated with him. It’s the kind of fascination beyond genders. Eddy had fallen for Brett for some reasons that he couldn’t explain. Gradually, they became more and more intimate. Eddy was even invited to have a drink in Brett’s old hotel room hiding in the winding alley. However so, Eddy still got a feeling that Brett pulled out a distance every time when their hearts were about to touch.

But Brett was not…not indifferent at all.

When the last leaf fell off, leaving those bare trees standing along the roadside; the snow season was about to come.

More and more pedestrians were willing to stop by and listen to their music. 

The streetlights snapped on in the evening air. The hustle and bustle of the daylight returned to silence. People retreated to the havens they belong. 

“…Brett,” he muttered. The violinist’s features became more delicate under the beam of the warm light.

“What? ——,” Brett exclaimed. He turned his head and felt his lips touch the other soft ones. Eddy kissed him.

“I…I…just wanted to do that…ohh!” he startled. Eddy was pressed down on the bench, kissing. He could see the teeny-tiny snowflakes piling on Brett’s eyelashes. Brett nibbled his upper lip softly. A small patch of his skin ignited under the kisses.  
  
“We’re fair and square now. No more trickery, okay?” he said. Brett ruffled Eddy’s hair and carried his instrument back to the hotel.

Eddy was left still on the bench. The metallic surface of it was freezing. But he felt his face so burning hot that could melt the snow in the park.

Their sudden appearance eventually roused the vile probing of media. 

“Shocking, the degrading White House concertmaster wound up on the street!” The side photo was taken when Brett just finished playing and bent down to look at Eddy’s newly-written script. The black-and-white printings made his profile look more destitute than ever.

Brett was dragged out of his last concert by the yelling manager and the security. It’s simply because he refused playing the national anthem to please the president and the officials. “I’m not American,” he said, dauntlessly. Then they held him in custody for three months and five days, under the charge of “inciting subversion of state power”.

The favorite of the upper class became foreign and despised. They used to look up to him but now he’s held up to ridicule. The reality had taught him the void of vanity. In the ever-changing world, the only thing remains unchanged is music…and his violin.

“Brett…are you drunk?” Eddy frowned. Brett hid himself in his shabby hotel room as expected.

“Humm…...,” Brett snored. The strong smell of alcohol suddenly engulfed Eddy.

“This is me, Eddy,” Brett whispered. What would you say? Would you despise me like them? …or worse?

——Even so, his thoughts of self-ridicule were stuck in Eddy’s warm hug.

“......,” Eddy hushed. His thoughts were in a muddle. All he could think about was Brett. Instinctively, Eddy gently hugged him. He hadn’t figured out his feelings yet. He just felt hurt...... for the talented violinist standing right in front of him. 

“...Eddy...,” he inquired. Brett raised his arms hesitantly, holding him back. To his surprise, Eddy was... crying?

“Brett… Brett…,” Eddy whimpered. How earnest he is about the violin. Even when standing on the leave-paved roadside, he still tries to interpret every single notes to the upmost with all of his heart. And all of these, were so easily denied by the vulgar values. 

“…Brett, this is your…your last secret…right?” Eddy mumbled, lying on Brett’s shoulder. His voice lower in a nasal tone.

“……Yes,” Brett whispered. That’s the naked and murky truth about his past.

“…have me, Brett…,” Eddy said. Brett have always thought that Eddy looked like a greyish rabbit with bulging front teeth. And now tears welled up in the rabbit’s eyes, bringing in a shade of red. 

...the violinist answered him by a long and deep kiss.

They finally stripped away all the covers, both physically and mentally. Eddy felt that the fog shrouded above Brett finally lifted away. Now he could see clearly, the man who stole his heart away. “This is Brett....” thought Eddy, the feelings of pain and being filled from his inner body made him sure about Brett’s presence.

“Don’t cry……,” Brett muttered. His voice became lower than usual. He pacified Eddy, who’s still sniffing in his arms. Brett found it quite… adorable when Eddy teared up defensing him. 

“I’ll never… never go to the States…,” said Eddy, firmly. Brett couldn’t help but chuckle. Eddy slapped on his arm in revenge. How nice it is, his lover.

“Ahh… no… no we won’t go there…,” he replied. Brett secretly thinks that he should try harder, so that his rabbit will never have to cry over anything… except when he’s in his bed.

“…Brett!” exclaimed Eddy. Then the rabbit whose tear still dripping like raindrops, was again be wrapped in the duvet rolled up by the violinist. 

“Really…thank you so much…,” Eddy said, returning the rusty key. The landlady held his hands tightly.

“If it’s possible, sent us a telegram, let us know you’re safe and sound, kid…,” she said. The tension has increased these day. She couldn’t help but worry about this young man who’s ambiguous about his destination.

“Ahh…take care for yourself too…please,” he replied. Eddy had made a choice, betting on everything he has. 

Brett seemed to be... indifferent about everything, except his persistence towards music. He roamed around with no shackles. Whether he’s standing on a glamorous stage or on a tattered brickwork, nothing can restrain him. It is him who chose the audience but not the buyers to interfere him.

Eddy just wanted to hold on to this man. Can he be the anchor of this roaming soul?

Clearly, because of the exposure of the past scandal, the city is no longer a welcoming stage to Brett. Then why would him be the shackles to him just like this city.

Or else, let him leave with Brett. Travel through lands and seas, leaving their footprints on the cobblestones of every boarder.

“Go home, Eddy,” he said. Knocking on his door with luggage at this time, Brett didn’t need a second guess to know what he’s planning in mind. 

“Wherever you are is the place that I belong!” said Eddy. It’s quite cliché, but Brett saw his true heart in it.

Yes. He had to admit. Since the first time he met this quirky young man who shoved his music to him, his heart had fallen for him.

Not only did they resonate with each other in music, their minds are in sync. Sometimes, even words are unnecessary. 

For the first time in life, Brett couldn’t help but wonder, how good it will be if they can grow old together, with their hands in hands.

But if he follows his mind, coaxing Eddy into roving with him, that would be too selfish. After all, he’s a willful soul. The indifference about fame and glory is nothing but a façade. He merely wants to play what his heart desired. 

However, the claws of the Nazi finally clutched onto Portland in that autumn. The recession and the Nazi’s frantic engulfed the land. The rumor of the war gradually spread through. The shadow of the War World I was still there. They have witnessed the tragic of the war in their childhood. If the sudden war swept through the continent, Brett don’t know whether they can come together again in this turbulent and wrecked world. 

Let him go on an aimless journey, with Eddy by his side. Wherever you are is the place that I belong… Brett felt the exact same way. 

Then, before the war caught up to them, the violinist and his rabbit set off, leaving no trace behind. They visited cities that were still indulged in glamour and glory. They also enjoyed the tranquility of the rural. The rabbit weaved out his music. And the violinist turned them into the magic that heals the wound of the past. Once in a while, they would be able to borrow a piano and have an impromptu ensemble. 

In the age of madness, Brett and Eddy have found the muse of their own. 

Upon all of the music echoes down the ages, which are the creation of the violinist and his rabbit? That’s the secret lying only between two of them.

Life is too short, but they’ve found the eternal in love.

-  
TBC


End file.
